


Black in the moonlight

by Toruviel



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by Art, M/M, Murder, No Beta, No non-con between Will and Hannibal, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, We Die Like Men, but not described in graphic details, hannibal the vendigo, i think, non-con and child abuse are heavily implied, series level of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toruviel/pseuds/Toruviel
Summary: When he was a child, Will ran away into the woods, trying to escape a monster's grasp. But monsters do not let their prey escape that easily.





	Black in the moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Legend](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/530930) by hcnnibal. 

> Please MIND THE TAGS!
> 
> One day I saw an amazing piece of art by the talented hcnnibal and this one-shot was born. Just in time for Halloween, too. I cannot regret it.

It was cold.

The snow under Will’s feet carved in, tried to trap him, every hurried steep a silken _crunch-crunch _that echoed in the dark woods.

He should probably take his sneakers off, he thought through the pounding panic, they were soaked through anyway and they made so much noise, he _couldn’t_ make any noise, he would hear him-

Winter in Washington was so much colder, so much harsher than the rainy season in the south, it was sharp and windy and his dad hadn’t had spare money for a new jacket for him, they had to be careful to afford roof over their heads and food for Will and booze for his dad, a new jacked hadn’t made the cut, and Will was a big boy now, he could deal, it was just so cold and he was _hungry_…

_Crunch-crunch-crunch-_creak-

Will froze.

His breath burst out of him in panicked little clouds, white on white, loud, he could hear it, surely every creature in the woods could hear it, oh God-

Something moved in the corner of his vision, something dark and angular and familiar.

Then a voice called from behind him, loud and angry and _too close-_

“Where are you, Willy? You know there’s no sense in hiding, come out!”

Will looked around frantically, he had to hide, he had to-

“Come now, Willy! No need to be scared, now is there? You know I’d never hurt you, I don’t know why you’re behaving like that. You dad would be very disappointed.”

Will ran.

But the snow was deep and _loud_, and his legs were short, and he was freezing and he hadn’t had dinner yesterday or breakfast today, and it took only moments for Mr Richards to catch him.

“Got you!”

Will trashed and tried to scream, but he couldn’t, he had no breath, and Mr Richards had him now, there were hands grabbing him, spinning him around and shaking him, big and heavy and he couldn’t make a sound-

A hand fisted in his curls and forced him to look up, into an angry, red face of his teacher.

“Running away, were you?” Mr Richards asked, voice slow and quiet. Will shuddered. It was always worse when Mr Richards went cold and quiet, it always hurt more. “Running into the woods, at night, in the middle of the winter? Are you trying to get yourself killed, Willy? Am I really that awful to you?”

The hands slid lower, on his neck, curling around his shoulder. He was tugged closer, against a wide chest, against the scratchy material of a winter jacket, and it was a _good_ winter jacket, thick and forest green and-

“Have I even been awful to you, Willy?” Mr Richards murmured, his breath hot against Will’s ear. “Have I ever hit you, hurt you? No, no I haven’t. Then why are you being such a bad boy, hm?”

The hand slid lower, down his spine, all the way down, then up, then down again, like petting a pet, slow and firm and insistent, tugging him closer. The other hand reached between them, found the end of Will’s ragged jacket and slipped under, big and hot and- Will should try and get some gloves, maybe he could collect cans and sell them and-

“Willy,” Mr Richards muttered, pulling him closer, closer…

Something rustled in the bushes.

Mr Richards stilled for a second, then slowly straightened up, keeping his hands on Will, one on his shoulder, one on his head, fingers twisted in his curls, not pulling, not hurting just yet-

A tree creaked in the darkness.

“Is anyone there?” Mr Richards called, glancing around. “Hello?”

No response. Will glanced to the side, where the darkness between the branches was the deepest, where the moonlight reflecting off the snow didn’t reach. He knew which places the monster liked best.

“Hello?” Mr Richards tried again, turning around slowly. “Are you with the local police? Here to help me find Mr Graham? Hello?”

No response, no sound. Nothing, not even a rustle of disturbed snow.

“Well then,” Mr Richards muttered, looking back at Will. “I suppose we should get back, shouldn’t we. Before anyone starts worrying. It’s not nice to worry people, Willy.”

Will nodded carefully, the hand still in his hair, moving like a bag of worms, twisting and _touching_, but maybe- if they had to get back, then maybe-

“You want to be a nice boy, don’t you, Willy?” Mr Richards said quietly, still looking down at him, eyes shadowed. “You want to do nice thing for people, hm?”

One hand reached up and touched Will’s face, his lips. He shuddered.

“I think we can take just a moment longer,” Mr Richards whispered and then the hand in Will’s hair was pushing, pulling him in, the snow was cold and damp under his knees-

Then the darkness behind Mr Richards parted and the monster stepped out, black and skeletal thin, its dead eyes boring straight into Will.

Will froze. No, no he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_, he didn’t want the monster to _see_-

The hand in his hair shook him harshly.

“Willy,” Mr Richards warned, the other hand busy opening his jacked, getting lower, the monster couldn’t _see this-_ “Willy, be a good boy, now. Don’t make me correct you. I don’t want to, but I _will_ if you force me.”

Will didn’t want Mr Richards to correct him, he didn’t, but the monster was _right there_ and it was _looking_ at Will, and he didn’t want it to see and know, he didn’t want-

“Will.”

The other hand was on his face now, around his jaw, and the monster was still _staring_, its eyes dead and its claws motionless and its antlers huge and sharp-

Will twisted and bit the hand.

“Fuck!” the hand slapped him, hard, and he fell away, into the snow. “Fucking hell, you- What was that, Willy? Hm? What _the hell_ was that?”

Will tried to raise and fell down again, it was so cold, he was shivering, when did he start? He couldn’t remember. He struggled to his knees and spat the snow out of his mouth. It came away red.

“Willy,” Mr Richards sighed behind him and then there was a crunch of snow and the hands were back, on his head, down to his neck, squeezing just a bit, just enough to make Will freeze, his heart pounding in his ears. The monster was right in front of him, crunching down, never looking away from him, even as hands forced him down on his elbows, touched his hips- “If you are going to be difficult, Willy…”

The monster stared into Wills wide eyes and then slowly, so slowly, it cocked his head, leaned to the side and- and moved his head up and down, one of his enormous antlers running along the nearby tree, stripping away the bark, why was it-

“Good, Willy, you’re a good boy,” Mr Richards murmured from behind and above him, big and heavy, hands grasping his side, repositioning his legs, _touching-_ “Such a good boy for me.”

The monster moved his head again, up and down, the antlers scraping along the wood, _scrap-scrap-scrap…_ Will looked at it, at the black crown of antlers glinting in the silver moonlight, at the dead eyes and sharp claws. He didn’t want it to see.

“There, that’s better,” Mr Richards breathed, tugging Wills trousers down and pushing his face down, into the snow, into the white coldness. “That’s good, Willy, isn’t it? That’s what you want.”

_Scrap-scrap- scrap._

Will’s hands moved through the snow, trying to be strong, trying to hold onto _something_-

“I’m going to give you _exactly_ what you want.”

Will’s hand found something under the snow, something velvety and cold and _sharp-_

_Scrap-scrap- scraaaap._

He twisted and kicked and stabbed blindly behind.

He landed on his side, still under Mr Richards, still in the snow, and he was so cold now, so very cold, except his hand, that was hot, hot and wet and-

“_Agh!_ You _fucking-“_

Will hit Mr Richards again, and again, stabbing without looking, without thinking, hearing nothing but his panicked breath and his heart and the crunch of the snow. He kept stabbing until Mr Richards stopped shouting, stopped moving, stopped-

Until he stopped.

Will opened his eyes and he was sitting in the snow, his back against a tree, prickly twigs catching in his sodden hair, scrapping his hands… His hands were red. His hands were wet. There was a broken-off bit of antler in his hand. Mr Richards was laying a few feet away, in the black snow.

He wasn’t moving.

Will stared. He clutched the antler in his hand and circled his arms around himself and stared at the black and red form in the snow. It wasn’t moving. Will wasn’t moving either, wasn’t even shivering, though he was cold, freezing, and he was tired, and hungry, and he just wanted to _go home_…

Something rustled behind him, in the dark, and he turned to look.

Oh. It was just the monster.

It had straightened up and was now moving closer, into the glade, into the stain of silvery moonlight. The snow was silent under its feet. It moved past Will without touching him, walked over to the dark form and crunched at- at the longer side, slid its hand under and turned it over, on its back. The green jacked slid open, wet with- wet and dirty.

The monster raised one hand and then raked it down, black claws flashing, the cloth and skin parting around them, red and raw. The stain on the snow grew, darkened. It was so big, how could so much blood fit inside a- inside a-

Will hastily looked away, back at the monster.

It had rammed its hand inside the ragged wound and was- was rummaging inside, its black skin wet and glistening almost up to its elbow, and then, before Will could close his eyes, its hand re-emerged, holding- The monster was holding something dark and red and slimy, dripping with- It was-

The monster brought the piece of flesh to its mouth and bit off a large chunk. Its eyes were trained straight at Will.

He shuddered, something hot and uncomfortable twisting in his belly.

The monster took another bite, its teeth flashing, stained deep, deep red. The smell was thick in the air, the smell of copper and something heavier, something similar to the stink of fish guts, only it wasn’t some fish that Will had caught for dinner, it was- It had been-

The monster paused and held its hand out to Will, the last bite of viscera dripping blood on the white snow between them.

Oh.

No. Will dug his fingers into his arms, hiding behind his raised knees. He couldn’t. No matter what, no matter how cold and hungry he was, he couldn’t, you weren’t supposed to- to _do that_, that would be wrong, he was trying to be a good boy-

Only he wasn’t good, was he? Not after what he had done, not after- But that wasn’t the same, he hadn’t _planned-_

His belly rumbled, tight and painful.

He glanced up through his fringe and flinched violently backwards. The monster was right there.

It held out its hand again. Will looked at the thing grasped between long, lethal fingers. It didn’t look much different than the hamburger meat his dad sometimes bought at the supermarket, red and pink and faintly disgusting. It always tested all-right at the end.

Slowly, carefully, Will reached out and took the piece from the monster. It was warm in his fingers, slightly slippery. He put it in his mouth.

It was- He closed his eyes and chewed, swallowed. It landed warm and heavy in his empty belly, the first thing he had eaten in so long, and it was-

It was the best thing he had ever eaten.

His stomach growled, hungry for more. He opened his eyes and the monster was crunched right there, staring at him, the black crown of its antlers raising above them, shielding them. Will glanced at the blood around its mouth, on its hands, and licked his lips.

The monster followed the motion with its eyes and then with its hand, the dark talons touching Will’s lips, cupping his cheek and tailing down his throat. The touch felt cold, burning with it. Will didn’t dare to breath.

Then the monster was moving back, moving away, sliding back towards the body and its ruined chest. It crunched down at the blood-stained snow and freed another morsel, red and dripping. Will swallowed.

The monster looked back at him.

Will crawled forward, slowly and awkwardly, his limbs clumsy with the cold and tiredness. He kneeled close to the monster and accepted a bite of meat, then another, and another. He let the monster fed him slowly, with small bites, he let the monster turn him around and put his own hands onto the body, _into_ it, the monster’s hands big and sure around his own, its chest close against him.

He let the monster show him the best bits and ate until he was sated.


End file.
